LotS/The Story/Assault on the Zenith/Intro
The planning goes on long into the night. Countless streams of data pour into the council room from TALOS’ operatives around human space, and appear on the chamber’s many screens and holographic displays. You spend hours gazing at star charts littered with markers representing known and anticipated fleet movements, and discussing how each projection might influence your course of action. Then one particular piece of information arrives: General Rahn’s personal cruiser, the Zenith, is in occupied Sian space – traveling from system to system, overseeing operations across the entire sector.
Princess Illaria’s eyes gleam when she learns of this. General Rahn is believed to have orchestrated the attack on the Sian Empire, and has thus earned her eternal enmity. In the twitching of her fingers, in the look in her eyes, you read her desire for vengeance. She wishes to see Rahn suffer. But when she speaks, her voice betrays nothing of this. The Princess proposes her plan in calm, pragmatic terms, her ulterior motives hidden from all but you, who know her so very well. She argues that a major figure such as Rahn is sure to have information about the Centurians’ new technology and its origins, whilst a lesser one – some officer ambushed in a distant corner of space – might not. And so she proposes an attack on the Zenith.
There’s a murmuring around the table. Your gaze meets that of a woman wearing an admiral’s uniform, its ribbons marking her status as a fellow veteran of countless space battles. The same thought is surely in both your minds, and in those of the other military officials around the table. You consider giving voice to it, but cannot bring yourself to contradict the Princess in front of this gathering. Instead it’s the admiral who speaks out.
“Rahn would send out an alert the moment our ships appeared on their scans,” she says. “Centurian fleets from across Sian space would respond.”
She’s right. If you attacked the Zenith, your surprise strike designed to recover information would become a massive battle. Reinforcements would be too readily available to the Centurians there.
“What if we disrupted their communications?” the Princess asks.
“The old space pirate trick?” replies the admiral. “It’s effective enough against merchant ships. But a Centurian fleet has powerful communications equipment. It’s impossible.”
“Oh?” comes a soft voice.
All heads turn, and dozens of eyes fix their gazes on an elderly man in elaborate robes. You remember being introduced to him at the start of the meeting. Fabricator Orben… That was his name and title. He’s been silent until now, merely watching the proceedings rather than contributing to them. He was wearing a hood before, pulled down over his brow. Now it’s fallen back, revealing a head shaved to resemble the pattern of a circuit board. A pilgrim’s haircut. He’s a tech-worshipper, back from a recent trip to Occulus.
“Maybe we can’t do it,” he continues, his bright eyes revealing satisfaction at the attention he’s drawing upon himself, “but I believe it can be done. It just requires a little faith...”
The meeting finally adjourns for the night, with the decision that Fabricator Orben will contact the Cybertollahs of Technology, leading clerics of his technotheistic religion. Though they officially remain neutral in all political disputes, the Cybertollahs have no love of the Centurian Collective, who have banned the tech-worshipping faith in their territory. Orben believes they may be persuaded to allow TALOS the use of their strange and outlandish technologies. A princess in exile, an army of robots, and now a cabal of religious lunatics… War makes for interesting alliances.
As you walk down the corridor, a wailing noise stops you in your tracks. It’s coming from behind a door to your right. That’s where you left Telemachus…
The door opens to your touch, and you see him sitting on a couch, his head tilted up like that of a dog baying at the moon. His face is red, eyes screwed up in such anguish that he seems even younger, like a newborn baby. Tears stream down his cheeks. On the wall in front of him is a large screen, showing a news network report. The somber-faced newscaster’s voice is hidden beneath Telemachus’ bawling, but you hear enough. The Centurians have attacked Gallea. King Salastro is dead.
You stand there frozen, embarrassed to have intruded on the boy, knowing you should say something, do something. But what could you possibly do or say? In the midst of this indecision, someone pushes past you. It’s the Princess.
She glides across the room, and sits next to him. He resists for a second as she tries to pull him into an embrace. Then he seems to crumple up, his head falling onto her shoulder as she hugs him. His piercing wail gives way to deep sobs, each one causing his entire body to heave.
For long, awkward moments you stay standing just inside the doorway, your feet rooted to the floor. It pains you to see the boy’s usually happy face wracked with such grief. You scour your mind for words which will help him, sooth him. But none finds its way to your tongue. Instead you step back into the corridor, softly closing the door behind you, and walk away.
The following day, Fabricator Orben delivers the Cybertollahs’ response. They do indeed possess a device capable of shutting down a Centurian cruiser’s communications systems. But they won’t simply give it to you. In their eyes, each piece of technology they produce is a holy artifact – a manifestation of their faith. They will only consider letting you use it if Princess Illaria appears before them in person, and they deem her worthy.
You have your qualms about the Princess leaving the safety of TALOS space, and making the trip to Occulus. But she accepts their terms, and agrees to meet with the Cybertollahs.
“Get out of my way!”
The yell draws your attention as you supervise the loading of your ship. You look over, and see Telemachus. His face is red once more, but this time with anger instead of sorrow. He’s glaring up at Chief Assembler Wilex, who towers over him.
“I’m sorry,” Wilex says, “but I can’t let you leave the planet.”
“I’m going!” Telemachus yells.
The boy tries to move around him, but Wilex steps sideways and blocks his path. Telemachus’ small hands clench into fists, and it looks as if he’s about to attack the old man. You stride towards them.
Telemachus looks up as you approach, and the Chief Assembler turns to you in relief. “I’m trying to explain to the boy that he has to stay here,” says Wilex. “Please make him understand, this is for his own good. The instructions in his father’s letter specifically-”
“You’re not leaving me behind!” says Telemachus. “I’m going with you. And when you go after the Centurians, I’ll fight.”
The boy’s fists tremble, and you see the twitches at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He’s angry, but so very close to breaking down and crying again.
“Get on the ship,” you say.
Telemachus’ face lights up. It’s obvious that he expected you to side with Wilex.
“I must protest!” says the Chief Assembler. “His father-”
“His father is gone,” you reply. “He’s his own master now.”
The boy looks at you in silent gratitude. Then he runs towards the boarding ramp.